Dark Perfection
by blacksaiyan1103
Summary: Voldemort didn't grab Bellatrix and Disapparate out of the ministry that night…he grabbed Harry instead. This is how the war could have ended before it began. ONESHOT. No horcuxes.


_I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe. This is a short story without the chance of Horcruxes._

* * *

**Ministry Atrium**

"_Coming here was foolish Tom," Dumbledore said, drawing his wand as he spoke. "The Aurors have already been notified and your followers have been subdued."_

_Voldemort spat on the floor and whispered harshly ,"The Aurors can't save you from what's about to come…AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

What followed was a display of magic that hadn't been witnessed in living memory. The Dark Lord hurled curses quicker than most people could visibly keep up with, and Dumbledore would fluently animate broken pieces of statues to intercept curses and occasionally counterattack.

Harry could only watch the scene with a sense of powerlessness. He realized that he and his friends were extremely fortunate in the Department of Mysteries, and that the two sorcerers in front of him far outclassed anything he had ever heard of.

Dumbledore seemed to have scored a hit on Voldemort with a wide area Transfiguration of the Atrium floor. The Dark Lord appeared to be starting a retreat as Floo fireplaces began to glow green and people flooded the room. Tearing his attention away from the fight, Harry spotted Bellatrix on the other side of the atrium preparing to launch a sneak attack at Dumbledore's side.

Raising his wand, Stunning Spell on his mind, Harry began the wand movements to stop the surprise attack, but suddenly felt himself compressed, breathless, and knocked out.

* * *

**Dark Depressing Location**

"_Crucio!" _the cold voice whispered.

Harry was jolted awake with his nerves on fire. Pain clamped down on every inch of his body. He couldn't remember being in so much pain since that night in the graveyard.

Suddenly the pain stopped. Harry opened his eyes to find himself on a stone floor, looking up at the ceiling. A figure loomed over him and slammed his glasses back onto his face.

He was staring into the smile of Lord Voldemort.

"Surprised to see me, Harry?" Voldemort asked.

Then everything went black.

* * *

**Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office**

The Order of the Phoenix was in disarray. Harry Potter had been kidnapped right under their noses, with a good portion of the Ministry's Defense staff as a witness. Thankfully, Dumbledore didn't fall victim to Bellatrix Lestrange (currently locked up with the other Death Eaters of the evening), but the distraction allowed Voldemort to snatch their savior and tear through the wards in a hasty escape.

Looking every bit of the years of his aged body, Albus Dumbledore stared straight ahead in a general direction, not making eye contact with any indivudal, and muttered, "This is what has happened tonight…"

"We had six students sneak out of Hogwarts, intent on rescuing an adult wizard believed to be held captive in the Department of Mysteries," he continued. Standing up from his seat, he spoke louder, "These students, these _children_, were ambushed. The trap was a success. And these children were outnumbered two-to-one by adults looking for a reason to kill."

He eyed the five students in his office, they looked out of place among the adults, but under the circumstances…age wasn't as important in keeping them out of meetings anymore.

"You five were lucky tonight," he whispered. "You should have been killed. And you would have been killed, had there not been a strict order to retrieve the Prophecy that Mr. Potter held. Lethal curses weren't thrown immediately for fear that the orb would break, and their mission would have been compromised. You all are talented, make no mistake, but on any other night _you would not have been left alive!_"

The adults around the room began nodding their heads. The teens were already shaken up from the night's events, but were now in tears at the thought of how closely they cheated death, and also how others were not (Sirius) and may not be (Harry) so fortunate.

"But the situation is far more dire than you realize," Dumbledore said. Everyone, including the adults, held puzzled looks on their faces. "That orb wasn't just any old Prophecy. That was THE Prophecy that was made regarding Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort. It told of _The One with the power to defeat…"_

* * *

**Dark Headquarters**

"…_born as the seventh month dies," _the woman in the memory finished reciting. So the boy _did_ manage to hear the end of the Prophecy that he didn't already know.

The Dark Lord stood up and shouted out with glee. He managed to rip through the pitiful shields around Potter's mind and extract the information he needed. He also found a few other interesting facts, namely that his spy was doing _too_ good of a job acting as a member of Dumbledore's precious order.

He reached down and slapped the boy's face, waking him from his fatigue induced slumber.

"No rest for the defeated!" Voldemort taunted. "You can sleep when you die, boy. Which will happen fairly soon, if that makes you feel any better."

Harry managed to hold his head up and muster a half-hearted glare in the general direction of Voldemort's voice.

"That's the spirit, Potter!" he continued. "Never back down! That's what makes you so unique. People flee, people cower, people _beg_. But not you. Don't worry, I won't keep you long. But before you go back to sleep, I wanted you to know just how big of an event this is."

Not seeing any way out of the current situation, Harry decided to play along. "How exactly have I brightened your day, _sir?_" he asked mockingly.

Not to be deterred, Voldemort chuckled and levitated Harry so that his body appeared to be standing, although his feet were still hovering a few inches above the ground.

"Oh you'll find out soon enough, we have a meeting to attend right now though," he answered. "My followers are in the ballroom and we're about to have a bit of a party. You'll be the guest of honor, as you were last year, but this time…there will be no loose ends.

Walking (and floating) down the hallway, they came up to a large set of polished, wooden doors. Mumbling a password, the doors opened to a grand room. Chandeliers draped with diamonds hung from the ceiling. Portraits of distinguished wizards and witches adorned the walls. But gathered in the room, standing in a semi-circle formation, were the Death Eaters that were not currently in Azkaban.

"My followers!" Voldemort cried out. "I present to you, the Boy-Who-Lived!"

No one cheered. No one made a movement. The entire room was a prisoner of Voldemort's presentation.

"Harry I want to share a story with you before you die," he continued. "You see, this Prophecy that I ripped from your mind wasn't any ordinary old tale. No, I want you to understand the bigger picture before you die. First, let's dispose of a pesky loose end. Wormtail! Come here now."

A trembling figure made his way to the front of the formation. He was roughly shoved forward by a pair of hands, and stumbled his way in front of the Dark Lord. Kneeling, he whispered fearfully, "Yes master? How may I serve you?"

Drawing his wand and aiming at the wizard's heart, Voldemort replied, "You can serve me in death Wormtail. You owe this boy a life-debt and I can't have that interfering with this glorious morning. _Avada KedavraI"_

From point blank range, there was nothing anyone could do but watch the green light slam into the wizard's chest, robbing him of his last breath, and witness the figure crumple to the floor. Dead.

Harry found it hard to feel sorry for the man's death, but couldn't help but lose any sense of hope that may have still been present.

"Now for the story!" Voldemort exclaimed. He waved his wand and conjured enough seats for everyone. "I want everyone to sit, except for you of course, Potter. And also, Severus, if you would do be so _kind_ as to come forward?" As the man approached Voldemort, and the still floating Harry Potter, the story continued.

"Harry," he started. "All those years ago, when I went to Godric's Hollow to end the Potter family…I actually came because of this Prophecy you retrieved last night. You see, I was told by a Death Eater that there would be a child born, at a certain month, to a certain couple, that had the power to defeat _me_. Naturally I had to eliminate the threat. But I didn't hear the whole prophecy, and in my haste, I was temporarily…_defeated_."

"What you don't know is that the Death Eater that shared this information with me, the one who gave me the information to track down your parents, the one who set this whole chain of events in motion, is standing right here beside you. Severus Snape heard this prophecy, he was discovered while spying on Dumbledore and that drunkard woman, and shared the contents with me. I deduced that it was either you or the Longbottom boy, but something told me it was _you._"

Harry was too shocked to hear the end of the sentence. He couldn't believe after all of the taunts, all of the misery, the detentions, the points, the suffering…the reason he was without parents was because _Snape_ had led Voldemort to target his parents.

"Oh yes it's all true Harry," Voldemort said, amused at Harry's shock. "But unfortunately, I can't reward Severus for a job well done this morning, just like I couldn't reward him with sparing your mother…whom he loved so very much. You see, he too owes you a bit of a life debt, and I can't have that bring you false hope either…_Avada Kedavra!"_

Quicker than anyone could blink, the infamous Potions Master was dead…his face still holding a mask of horror at the thought of an execution.

Voldemort prodded the body with his foot. "Never really knew who's side he was on," he sighed. "Good help is so hard to find. But anyway, Harry…I just wanted you to know your only hopes at rescue are now gone. You have discovered who truly got your parents killed. This prophecy stated that you were supposed to be my equal, and that you alone had the power to stop me. But now, I will allow you to die."

The Dark Lord's wand started to glow green in anticipation of finishing a task started years ago. A quick jab at the famous scar on the teen's forehead, and a harsh screech:

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

And the boy lived no more.

* * *

Far away, in the Headmaster's office in Hogwarts, many of his spinning instruments stopped cold, their sounds became muted. The aged wizard paled and held his head in his hands. "It is finished," he mumbled. "Harry Potter has been killed."


End file.
